Me Versus Cake: Round 1

I win!  I WIN!  Round One goes to MEEEEEEE!

Okay, details.

Cake: declared delicious by all.
Cake making process: went off with only one hitch.
Cake assembling process: the same.

So basically, this is how it went down:

I stepped into the ring: my tiny apartment kitchen.  It was a tag team of me and my 10-year old cousin versus the cake, the stove, the oven, and the lack of counter space.  Did I mention the hand-me-down Aldi's stand mixer?  So basically, 5 against 1 and a half. 

We assumed fighting posture in our luchadora ensembles of a zoo souvenir apron and a recently handmade apron.  The cake stared back at us in its many parts.  "Ha ha," it seemed to be laughing villainously, "you can't even fit all my ingredients on the same counter with the mixer!  And you only have a liquid measuring cup.  I laugh in your silly faces!" 

But my cousin and I were not to be defeated so easily.  We measured.  We sifted.  We added in the correct order.  The cake appeared taken aback by our efficiency and accuracy of attack.  We had not seen the last of its fight, though, as it rose defiantly to twice its desired height in the oven, taking on the appearance of a very large cupcake that refused to bake fully only in the very center of the very highest part. 

The cake's perfidy largely went unnoticed, though, while my cousin and I struggled against a new foe who had leaped into the ring in a surprise attack, metal folding chair held high: the homemade frosting.  This opponent, despite his unsubtle approach, led us into a false sense of security by appearing to come together as requested.  However, in a surprise offensive it suddenly became both watery and oily!  My cousin and I retired to the ropes for a rest, and upon mature reflection decided that the only place for such a nasty opponent was the Big Chill.  So into the freezer it went to think about what it had done. 

Now we discovered the cake and its cancerous growth.  Remembering the words of a wise sensei, the proprietress of the Sugar Drop baking supply store, I let both layers have it with a wet towel...draped over the top,while it was still in the pan.  I then gently pummeled the cupcake into cake shape before inverting it on a wire rack to continue cooling.  Now, for the frosting. 

Oh la la!  It had spitefully taken our suggestion that it "cool off a little" literally and had become lumpy but yet still not set.  A little exercise in the Aldi's hand-me-down mixer soon literally whipped it into shape.  Now for the final assembly. 

I sent my cousin into the living room (aka 10 feet away with no walls) so that I could launch my final offensive with complete concentration.  The physical pugilism had by this point subsided and the cake, frosting, and I were locked in more cerebral cat-and-mouse game in which I attempted to torte and fill and frost my layers into a level tier and the cake attempted to slide sideways and resist all efforts to appear like a cohesive unit with an evenly thick layer of frosting. 

In the meantime, my cousin, in her boredom, danced around the living room practicing her "Golem" voice until my patience could take no more and I requested that she do something quiet and still like play solitaire with an actual deck of cards.  Surprisingly, she did.  And the cake came together at last, frosted, filled, layered, torted, beautiful if slightly lopsided.  Here it is.

 

Medium-Batch Tsoureki / I think I see bubbles

Tsoureki.  My first foray into Greek Cooking.  Which is a lot like Italian Cooking, except it doesn't have basil, because basil was found by St. Somebody around the foot of the cross.  I know that's not very specific.  But, speaking candidly, I don't care what was growing around the foot of the cross.  Especially if it was basil, because basil is delicious, medicinal, and easy to grow.  I can't imagine that Jesus would feel that if basil were growing around his cross that it should be verboten to his beloved people forever. I mean, he made it.  He knows how good it is.  If He had died atop a hill of johnson grass, maybe I would feel differently.

I had heard about these legendary Easter Breads in passing, read about them once or twice (Italians make them too) and finally came across a recipe that sounded so tasty that I could not resist making it for Easter.  I modified it for size because the original made 5-6 loaves.  I mean, when a recipe is so large the author is not clear on how many whole loaves it makes it is too large for my kitchen.  And in addition, the actual yield of the original recipe, based on my experience, is 1000.  Yes.  Possibly 2000.  It's a lot.  My cut-down recipe, which I cannot even honestly call a "small batch", makes one hubcab-sized loaf or, likely, 2-3 normal-sized loaves.  But it was worth it because it is not only great fresh, it is lucious day after day for breakfast slathered in butter and dunked in your hot beverage of choice.  It is rich, and just lightly sweet, with a velvety, almost cakey texture.  I think I need to go make some more, because my hubcab of Easter love didn't last very long.

Medium-Batch Tsoureki

1 package fast-rising yeast
1/2 C. warm water
3-4 C.sifted all-purpose flour
1/2 C. sugar
1 tsp. salt
2 eggs, separated
1/2-1/3 C. milk
1/2 C. butter (one stick, in America)
half a can of sesame seeds
1 TB. vanilla or almond extract (I made mine with vanilla)
Hardboiled and festively dyed eggs for decoration (extremely optional, but attractive)

Mix together the warm water, salt, and sugar in a large bowl.  Add in the yeast and let proof for 5-10 minutes or until seriously foamy.  As in, "froth on beer" foamy, not "I stirred it a little and I think I see bubbles" foamy.  That is not enough foamy.  That amount of foamy could be "yeast is actually dead but faking you out" foamy, otherwise known as "ahahahaha try and burn ME in the oven, your bread will never rise, yeast-hater" foamy.  Stir in 2 egg yolks and 1 egg white.  (The other egg white is for brushing on top later.)  Add in your milk.  Sift your flour and stir it into the yeast micture one cup at a time, mixing it well to make a smooth batter, then, as you continue adding flour, a glossy dough that pulls away from the sides of the bowl.  Turn it out onto a well-floured surface and knead it about 10 minutes, adding in additional flour as necessary to prevent it becoming too sticky.  When you're done, you should have a satiny elastic dough that does not tear easily.  Put it in a well-greased bowl and cover it with plastic wrap (or wet cheesecloth, it works just fine).  Set your dough in a warm place.  (I've had good success with putting the oven on the lowest setting, letting it preheat, then putting in the dough to rise and turning the oven off after I shut the door).  Let it rise until doubled, about 1-1/2 hours.  This will be your longest rising time.  When it's risen, punch it down and let it rise until doubled again (about 45 minutes).  When it's done so, turn it out onto your work surface and cut it into 6 pieces.  Shape each piece into a long snake.  Braid three snakes together, then turn them into a wreath.  Put your wreaths onto your baking sheets.  Tuck the dyed eggs in amongst the sections of braid if you want the eggs in for decoration.  Then, brush each wreath with the egg white and sprinkle sesame seeds all over them until they are basically more sesame seed than bread.  Yum.  Put them in the oven and bake at 350 until golden brown on top and they sound hollow when tapped on the bottom.  I had to tent mine with aluminum foil for the last 15 minutes or so to prevent the crust from scorching, but a rich caramel brown crust is actually pretty tasty, and this bread's texture doesn't result in a tough crust.  Au contraire.  Weap, packaged white bread, weap.  Toothsome crusts come from the home oven now.


 

Cinnamon Raisin Coffee Cake

Update

This cake is nasty!  I guess I've gotten so used to being able to produce good stuff from my kitchen that I didn't bother to try it for once before posting it.  I mean, it's not cough-syrup-flavored or made with lice, but it's not exactly tasty.  Its issues are: too dense, not enough filling, not enough flavor overall.  There, I said it.  Based on the continued popularity of my blog post about the homemade toothpaste, I'm guessing that my honesty about kitchen failures is entertaining.  Which was in part the point.  Success!  So, if you feel inclined to mess around with this recipe, feel free.  I would add about 2-3 more cups of raisins and real sugar instead of corn syrup, skip the whole "1 TB of this, 1 TB of that" business and just dump a whole boatload of butter in its place, and let this one rise twice like it was supposed to, rolling it out between risings and filling it with the aforementioned raisins.  But that's just an estimate, since I probably will just make actual real cinnamon buns next time instead of lazy, cabinet-purging muffinettes.  (I felt at the time that muffins would be a good call.  Turns out: I was wrong.)

Fruit Filling (I use the word "filling" loosely)
1 C. golden raisins
1/4 C. granulated sugar or light corn syrup (I used corn syrup...still cleaning out the cabinets)
1-2 tsp. ground cinnamon

Heat the corn syrup on the stove in a small saucepan over medium heat.  Stir in the cinnamon and the raisins.  Turn the heat down to low and let it sit and bubble for a few minutes-- 5 or so.  (It should still be runny.)

Batter
1 pkg. quick-rise yeast (if you have regular, just plan on doubling the rising time, but otherwise do everything else the same)
1/2 C. milk

Heat the milk until it's warm but not hot (otherwise you'll kill your yeast!!).  Stir in your yeast and let it proof, ie let it sit and make bubbles for a minute or so.  (If it doesn't bubble, start over with new yeast and fresh milk.)

Then, whisk together:

1 C. all-purpose flour
1 C. whole wheat flour
1/4 tsp. salt

In a separate bowl, combine the following, adding the egg second last and the sugar last.

1 egg
1 TB. shortening, melted
2 TB. sunflower oil
1 TB. cream cheese
1/4 C. sugar (I had powdered, but granulated would probably be fine)

Stir the yeast mixture into the wet ingredients.  Then add the wet into the dry, including the Fruit filling that you have prepared.  Or, you could make it a true filling and layer it into the batter when you get closer to baking it.  Either way, set your batter aside in a warm place and let it rise until double.  (I'm impatient, so what I do is let it rise to about 75% and then put the batter in a cold oven instead of preheating it.  It works out pretty well!)  When your batter is how you like it, pour your batter into the receptacle of your choice.  I used a muffin pan plus a mini loaf pan, but it would make two regular-sized loaves, or a 9x9 square pan as well.  Then, bake it according to your tastes (the impatient way or the regular way) at 350 for 20-30 minutes or until it passes the toothpick test.  If you feel extra festive, make a frosting from 1 C. powdered sugar and 1-2 TB. of milk and pour it over the top!
_________

When I was younger, I used to wish that I had a more picture-perfect home life.  "Wish" is probably not strong enough a word.  I felt instinctively that my life would be a lot easier if it were.  I'm thankful, though, for the strength that God has taught me through my non-picture-perfect family, and I'm thankful that he gave me Grandmom and Grandpop, that were such a source of rest when life was so hard.  In amongst all of that, they were like an island of food and love in the midst of a raging sea. It was bittersweet to go visit them because I knew I had to leave, and I knew what I had to go back to. But it still meant the world to me. And I appreciated the home-cooked meals while I was there, and the unfashionable winter coats that they sent me when I wasn't there, much more than if their love and kindness were all I had ever known.  And at the end of the day, I think I can honestly say that I could survive pretty much anything. My world isn't going to come crashing down if I'm hungry, or cold, or despised. I know that hunger cannot break your spirit, and the cold cannot kill it. I know the difference between being liked for what I have and being liked for who I am, and I know the difference between being disliked for what I've done and being mistreated because I'm vulnerable.

But most of all, I'm thankful for knowing what it means to be loved just for existing on this earth, and not because of anything else.  And the wisdom to know that this is the difference between love and appreciation.  Appreciation fades.  Appreciation can replace its object.  Appreciation definitely dies a swift and bitter death once its source dries up.  Love...doesn't.  Love is worth it.  Appreciation isn't.  Thank you, Grandmom and Grandpop.

Ginger Oat Cake / Grandmom Earns Her Life of Leisure

Ginger Oat Cake

Preheat the oven to 350F.

(whisk together)
1 C. all-purpose flour
1/2 C. whole wheat flour
1/2 C. rolled oats (like you would eat for breakfast, also the regular kind, not the "quick" kind)
1/2 tsp. salt
1-1/2 tsp. baking soda

(beat together, in the following order)
1/2 cup oil (I used almond, also to use it up, but canola or some other mild-flavored oil would be fine)
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1/2 C. molasses
1/2 C. powdered sugar (or regular granulated sugar, I just used powdered to use it up)
2-3 TB. fresh ginger paste or about 1-1/2 tsp. ground ginger
1/2 tsp. ground black pepper

Combine the two mixtures, stirring until just thoroughly mixed (ie no clumps of flour or ginger floating about) and then stopping.  (Too much stirring could make the cake tough.)

Grease and flour a medium-sized glass baking dish-- I think mine is 6 inches by 10 inches by 2-3 inches deep-- and pour the batter in, and bake for 30-45 minutes (depending on whether your oven runs hot or not-- mine does) or until the cake passes the toothpick test.  (I will repeat it for thoroughness: stick a toothpick or even a fork or the tip of a knife into the thickest part of your baked good, and if it doesn't have gooey blobs of batter on it, or thick moist crumbs stuck on it-- both signs of varying degrees of not-doneness, but does maybe have a couple of small crumbs on it and is otherwise still clean and dry, then your baked good is done.)  If you like, slice the cake while it's still in the pan and top it with:

Microwave Hot Lemon Sauce, for Those of Us Who Don't Like to Dirty Two Additional Pans for 1 Cup of Sauce or Spend More Time Making the Sauce Than The Cake

(microwave on high, for about 2 minutes)
1/2 C. water

(meanwhile, mix in a small bowl...)
1/2 C. powdered sugar
1 beaten egg
1/4 C. butter

Once the water in the microwave is bubbling hot, remove it and pour it slowly over the sugar mixture, stirring all the while.  Then, put that in the microwave, also on high, for about 3 minutes, removing it every 45 seconds to 1 minute to stir it vigorously with a fork.  Stop microwaving it when it gets thick.  Then, stir in about:

1-2 TB. lemon juice, or, equivalently, the juice of about half a lemon.
_________

I am enjoying the slow process of cleaning out my cabinets.  I think those around me are also enjoying it!  It works out well for my creative process and for my need to not get diabetes.
_________

The last time I went to visit Grandmom, she told me the story of how she retired.

Grandmom worked at, I think, the same factory her whole working life.  It was boring, but it was good pay, and Grandmom has always been good at sewing, so it played to her strengths.  Plus, she got to hang out with her friends on lunch and scheduled breaks.  It's New Jersey, which is a union state.  If a union could have negotiated scheduled foot massages, it would have by now.  Unions in the US, to enter onto a tangent, seem to have progressed on the "shirtsleeves to shirtsleeves in three generations" plan and, like all who go down that unfavorable road, it is their own fault and nobody else's.  If the unions had just quit at fair working hours and safe working conditions, everybody would still love the unions.  Instead, they got pompous and cocky around the 1970s, much like the overly-coddled son of a bootstrap millionaire, with the predictable results that always follow too much throwing your weight around. 

Anyway, to return to my story.  Grandmom and her unionized friends engaged in much friendly rivalry, like all women in the workplace.  This included the Secret Bird, otherwise known as flipping someone off across the room while pretending to adjust your glasses.  This was mostly before contacts, so almost everyone wore glasses.  Even Grandmom and Aunt Kitty flipped each other off on occasion.  Gotta love it. Amongst all this Secret Bird Flipping and break-taking, my Grandmom became one of the best sewers in the factory, and was entrusted with the trickiest work.  During all of this, the factory changed hands and Grandmom got a new boss.  This new boss did not like fixing his equipment.  You would think this would be an intuitive act in a factory-- to make sure the factory equipment still worked, much like the hiring and retaining of the workers to run said equipment.  However, history is about to prove us wrong. 

Grandmom's specialized sewing machine would break.  She would go tell the boss.  He would, instead of having someone trained in sewing machine repair come fix it, come over himself, pound on it like a Neanderthal trying to invent fire, and leave.  It would work for another few minutes, hours, or days.  Then this process would repeat itself. Did I mention the as-frequent complaints of this same boss about how Grandmom's productivity was subpar? Eventually Grandmom decided to leave.  She did.  The boss came personally to her house to beg her to come back.  She made him swear a solemn oath to fix the machine once and for all.  He made that oath.  Grandmom went back.  The machine wasn't fixed.  So, one day a couple of weeks later, she decided to sneak out in stealth.  Around lunchtime, she collected her personal things and went home claiming to be eating out.  And she never returned!  And she has enjoyed a life of leisure ever since! 

Grandpop retired a few years later and maintained their marital bliss by being faithful to his true loves: gameshows and sports on the television.  At least once a visit Grandmom comments in disgust that all Grandpop does is sit on the couch and watch tv and yet he never gains a pound!  In Grandpop's defense, earlier in his retirement he also: barbequed the best rotisserie chickens ever; maintained the front and back lawns in golf-course-like perfection; vacuumed (including chasing the dog around with it, not out of malice but sheer fur anxiety); drove Grandmom around like a professional chauffeur; and messed around in the basement and the garage with assorted tools.  However, despite Grandpop's diminishing activity over the years, it is true that he still has never really put on weight, despite also having a notorious sweet tooth that can only be satisfied by glasses of Boost! with every meal and cake and coffee every night a couple of hours after dinner.  You know, so there's room.  It's enough to make any woman disgusted.

Apple Spice Coffee Cake / The Smoking Foodgun

Apple Spice Coffee Cake

Filling
3 large apples, cored, peeled, and coarsely chopped
juice of 1 orange
1 C. dark brown sugar
2-3 TB. butter
1/4 C. sultana raisins (optional).

Melt the butter in a skillet.  Melt the sugar in the butter.  Dump in the apples and juice.  Let simmer until the apples are fully cooked.  If you want the raisins, add them at the same time that you add the apples.

Batter
1-2/3 C. unbleached all-purpose flour
2/3 C. whole wheat flour
1 pkg. yeast
1/2 C. milk
2 eggs
1/3 C. granulated sugar
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. cardamom
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
2 TB. ginger paste -or- 1 tsp. powdered ginger
1/4 C. oil

Mix together the dry ingredients.  Warm the milk.  Add in the yeast and let it proof (1-5 minutes, depending on whether it's regular or quick-rise).  In a separate bowl from the flour, mix together the yeast mixture, the eggs, and the oil.  Beat this into the flour mixture, stirring for about 1 minute or until the dough starts to pull away from the sides slightly.  Let rise in a warm place about 30 minutes to 1 hour (again, depending on your yeast).  Grease and flour a bundt pan and preheat the oven to 350F.  Pour half the batter into the pan.  Pour in the filling.  Top with the remainder of the batter and bake for about 40 minutes.  (You might have to tent the top of the cake for the last 10 minutes or so, depending on how hot your oven runs.  It should be a nice medium brown on top, though.)  Take the cake out after it passes the toothpick test and let it cool for about 15 minutes before attempting to cut it. 

I had apples, so I used apples, but another alternative is to use two or three jars of orange marmalade and skip the whole "making a filling" step.  That would bring out the spices more and be a lot easier.  It is tasty as an apple cake, for sure.
________

In my search for a pan while cooking dinner, I discovered the manual to a vintage kitchen appliance I own called "the Foodgun".  I know.  It sounds like it should be illegal in schools and on planes and public property.  In reality, it is a spritz cookie maker and, according to the ambitions of the manufacturer, the most useful tool in our kitchens since the fork.  Have a bunch of cooked unfilled manicotti laying around?  Problem solved!  Use the Foodgun.  Need to turn plain mashed potatoes into a gourmet dish via shooting them out of a motorized canister?  Shabam, the Foodgun gives you "Duchess Potatoes".  Its uses potentially are limited only by the human imagination of things that need to be filled and substances that can be shot into those things.  In addition, the manufacturer provided a helpful "FAQ" section at the back that makes Dr. Dre look like an amateur at spinning.  Example: "Q. Is it dishwasher safe?  A. The motor housing is not immersible, but easily cleans with a damp cloth.  It's possible to put the separate parts in the dishwasher--but not advisable....Besides, they're so easily cleaned with a soak and a wipe that it's hardly worth the time to put them in the dishwasher."  (Emphasis mine.)  Excuse me, but until I have a personal attendant who enjoys applying "a soak and a wipe" to dishwasher-safe items, it is still worth the time for me to put them in the dishwasher.  Furthermore, I cannot imagine the "soak and a wipe" that would be both quick and sufficient to remove a thick, sticky layer of extruded cookie dough from the inside of a plastic barrel.  It would involve much more than that.  Possibly two soaks.  And definitely about a thousand wipes.  Or the dishwasher.  Just come out and say it if it's not dishwasher safe.  There is no such thing as "marginally dishwasher safe", except, apparently, in the minds of the makers of the Foodgun. 

This Foodgun in particular came to me by a circuitous route.  It was originally given to Grandmom as a Christmas or birthday present, and it was something she wanted.  However, it turned out not to be exactly what she thought it was, or something to that effect, so she hung onto it for a while and then regifted it to my mom at her bridal shower.  Remember, this was about thirty years before "regifting" was even a word.  But Grandmom did it!  My mom knew about it and was fine with it.  Eventually she tried it out, and it too wasn't quite what she had in mind.  So, she gave it back to Grandmom, where it sat in the basement for the next 25 years until Grandmom asked me if I wanted to poke around there and see if there was anything I wanted for my first apartment (on approval, of course).  I haven't tried it out yet.  Honestly, I'm kind of afraid to. 

Also, my not using it allows it to last longer and therefore possibly become the most epic regifting since the Ugly Sweater Episode.  In a nutshell, either my Great-aunt Kitty or my Grandmom or possibly their respective Mother-in-law/Mother gave it to one of them.  It was, by both their reports, really ugly.  Yet it was mandatory for whoever got it first to wear it occasionally out of respect for one's elders.  Until somebody got the brilliant idea to "accidentally" lose it at the other one's house.  In a very hidden location.  At first, the finder, whoever it was (Grandmom or Aunt Kitty), thought it was an accident and tried to give it back.  The ugly sweater returned, and the game was on.  Over the course of about 15 years the ugly sweater traded houses multiple times and also went to Myrtle Beach and Upstate Pennsylvania, (in various hands) and also once to Paris, France.  (Grandmom was responsible for that one, sneaking it into a packed suitcase on pretense of using the bathroom at Aunt Kitty's house the day before she left on vacation.)  As you can imagine, over time the methods of sweater delivery had to become more sophisticated.  It got mailed.  It got "Return to Sender"-ed.  It came in the back of a framed picture.  Of course it got given for Christmas along with a more legitimate gift at least once apiece.  It goes without saying that every coat closet in both their respective houses got paid a visit by the ugly sweater, while the deliverer tried to sneak out without having to retrieve it, sometimes with success.  (I remember Grandmom telling me she was so frustrated on one occasion because she had checked every closet multiple times during a visit from Aunt Kitty and Aunt Kitty still managed to sneak the ugly sweater in somehow right before she left.)  So, with my vintage Foodgun approaching its fourth holder and decade, I think I can definitely continue the tradition, if I find just the right victim...er...recipient.

Two Kinds of Dinner Tacos / Stubbornness

I bought a package of tortillas intending to make quick, week-day quesadillas for a lunch or dinner.  (Or both!  I've been pretty busy.)  Instead, I realized that I had a serious amount of vegetables in my fridge or from the garden that needed to be cooked before they went bad.  So, I included them in my quesadillas...and then decided I didn't really feel like cheese...and ended up with what I will call "Dinner Tacos", because they are sort of like Mexican Breakfast Tacos except with more dinner-y ingredients.  For those who are unaware, Breakfast Tacos are the original inspiration for McDonald's' "Breakfast Burrito".  Basically, the Breakfast Burrito is the same thing as a breakfast taco.  IE, a tortilla filled with varying combinations of eggs, cheese, potatoes, and breakfast meats like sausage (chorizo) or bacon.  I ended up with two pretty good variations that I'm going to share with you: Summer Squash Dinner Tacos, and Eggs & Hash Dinner Tacos.

Summer Squash Dinner Tacos

3-4 small straight neck or crookneck yellow squash, cut into rounds

1 orange, red, or yellow bell pepper, chopped

1 red onion, chopped Italian style (strips, not cubes)

2 tomatoes, chopped

1/4 tsp. Old Bay seasoning

1/2 tsp. salt

a sprinkling of cayenne pepper (I'm not going to get into the esoterica of the exact meaning of "a dash", so basically, "a small amount that is suitable to your tastes", whatever that means to you.)

a sprinkling of Italian seasoning (I used about 1/2 tsp., but it could do without it)

3-4 tortillas

cooking oil

Summer Squash Dinner Taco filling

Heat the oil in a medium to large skillet over medium heat until sizzling hot.  Toss in the squash first and let them cook until reasonably tender.  (If they are young and fresh, they'll cook fairly quickly, but they still take a little longer than the rest of the ingredients.)  Add in the chopped bell pepper while the squash is still about half done.  When the squash and peppers are cooked, add in the onion and saute until tender (just another minute or so).  Add in the tomatoes last, letting them sizzle and release all those good juices you see in the picture.  (These were tomatoes from my Grandad's garden, and they were primo.)  When all your veggies are all cooked, remove them to a serving dish, juices and all.  Then, either get out a clean skillet or do like I did and use the same one without bothering to clean it-- it really didn't make any difference-- and toss your tortillas in it one at a time and toast them.  Serve your filling wrapped up, taco-style, in your toasted tortillas.  This should amply serve 3-4.

Toasting your tortillas is actually an important step.  A store-bought tortilla that you take the time to toast becomes a slightly crispy delight that the same tortilla straight out of the refrigerator cannot match.  It's a little tricky, so let me break it down. 

How to Toast a Tortilla

Step 1: Heat a dry skillet or electric griddle to medium heat

Step 2: Toss your tortillas on there, giving yourself enough room to flip them over.

Step 3: Let them toast on one side until small air pockets start to swell into medium air pockets on the side of the tortilla you can see (the top).

Step 4: Flip the tortilla.  You'll know you let it toast long enough on the backside if the top now has golden-browned round circles (the bottoms of the air pockets you saw). 

Step 5: Let the tortilla toast on the other side until the air pockets start to form again-- or-- the tortilla sort of swells up a little in one large air pocket.  Toasting the other side happens pretty quickly-- in a few seconds or so-- and you really can't go wrong.  A properly toasted-on-one-side tortilla is better than a burnt tortilla.  Unless you're in the "burnt marshmallows in my smores" camp (which I am) in which case a slightly burnt tortilla is okay.

Eggs and Hash Dinner Tacos

2 eggs

1 potato

1 large carrot or 2 small carrots

cooking oil

1/4 tsp. paprika

salt to taste

1-2 tortillas

Chop your potatoes into small cubes.  Do the same for your carrots.  Heat your oil over medium heat until a drop of water tossed into the pan sizzles.  Put the carrots and potatoes in the pan and cook them until they are both tender, letting them rest for the first few minutes of cooking them (meaning not stirring them around), and then stirring them to cook all sides evenly about 2-3 more times at intervals.  Add in a little more oil, then the salt and paprika, allowing the spice to sizzle and toast in the oil.  Stir everything around to coat the potatoes and carrots with the spices, then spreading them in an even layer on the bottom of the skillet.  Now, crack both your eggs on top of the hash, muddling them around a little bit to break the yolks and allow the whites to run down into the crevices between the individual pieces of potato and carrot.  Cook a little while longer, until the egg whites are set and the egg yolks are beginning to set.  (Or however long until the eggs are cooked the way you like them.)  Push the entire contents of the pan onto a plate, then use the skillet to toast a tortilla or two by the method described above.  Eat up!

_________

Just for the record, I wasn't always a good cook.  However, my desire for household thrift has remained unchanged, if not increased.  Put those two together: bad cook + cheap cook.  Fortunately, no one but myself has ever been subjected to my experiments in Home Economics.  Much like the aforementioned lab experiments, things did not always go according to plan.

Example the First: Weeds from the Yard

At some point in my older childhood, someone or some book somewhere told me people could eat things that commonly grew in the yard.  Much like the 1=0 situation (I am my mother's daughter), my eventual action on this piece of knowledge was delayed, possibly for God's increased entertainment.  The end result, however, was that my mom told me to go cook dinner and came in to find a large bowl of weeds from yard sitting on the dinner table.  Uncooked.  Unchopped.  Unwashed.  Roots still on.  I took my information literally!  This did not go down well with my mother.  I think we ate spaghetti instead accompanied by a side of lecture.

Example the Second: Dorm Hotdogs

This example could also be subtitled "that summer where I got diarrhea at least once a week."  I was living on loans, and it was the beginning of a summer term.  Being as I mentioned before, thrifty, I felt that it was perfectly reasonable to make use of an unopened package of hotdogs that undoubtedly had been left by a previous inmate at the end of the spring semester.  I believe I recall observing them over the course of a couple of weeks (at least) in order to make perfectly sure I was not stealing someone else's hotdogs.  Anyway, I eventually put them in something-- I can't remember what-- and ate them.  The success was short-lived.  See the alternate subtitle.  Undeterred by my experiences, I went on to do the same thing with a half-package of ground beef that I had personally bought and wanted to finish up.  Repeat of the same experience.  After a while, my gastric adventures became the source of much conversation among my suitemates.  I'm not sure why I was so stubborn about eating half-spoiled food.  All I know is that I was stubborn!  I still am.  But I no longer intentionally eat rotten food.

 

Persian Split Pea Loaf / Grounds for Mother-in-law Divorce

Anyone who's been reading this blog for awhile may have noticed that the amount of "traditional Italian" recipes has dropped off sharply.  The reason for this is that I am running out of family recipes.  Believe me, I have pestered and pestered my family, because technically this blog is for them, but apparently they are just not buying into the whole "my recipes at my fingertips" thing.  So, I still cook Italian food, and when I make up an Italian recipe worth publishing, I publish it.  But sometimes I just cook straight out of a recipe book and, you know, I'm not legally entitled to "post" that on "the internet" so that "strangers" can access it "for free".  Especially now that I'm in the middle of Molto Batali by Mario Batali.  Sure, he's smiling on the cover, but he might just come kick my cute laptop across the room, all for the children's sake.  (His cookbook's proceeds go in part to this children's charity he started.) It's a good cookbook, although definitely not the kind of Italian food I'm used to getting from the Grandmom's kitchen.  I'd be willing to bet it's from a different region of Italy.  (The Canduci family is from Southern Italy/Sicily and Grandpop's mom couldn't cook, so it doesn't matter where she was from.  More on that later.)  So, the upshot is, when I have a recipe I made up myself, or is the intellectual property of my family, I'll pass it on to you.  But there are no guarantees about it being Italian!  Oh, why I am even worrying, the top three recipes on this blog are: Okra and Potatoes (Southern), Hot Dog, Pork & Beans, and Cabbage Casserole (from the Notorious Fifties), and Pizza Gein, the only Italian favorite.

Persian Split Pea Loaf

2 C. cooked split peas, drained
1/2 red onion, sliced
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. garlic powder
1/4 tsp. coriander
1/4 tsp. paprika
1 tsp. salt
2 TB. tomato paste
1/3 C. vegetable or chicken stock*
1/4 C. golden raisins
1/4-1/3 C. oatmeal**
2-3 TB. cooking oil
1 egg

Preheat the oven to 400F.  Heat the oil in a saucepan over medium heat.  Saute the onion until it's soft.  Add in the spices and let them sizzle around for about a minute.  Add in the golden raisins and stir to coat them in the spices.  Add in the tomato paste, salt, and chicken stock, and stir everything up so that you have a fairly thick broth in the bottom of your pan.  Let that bubble another minute or so.  Dump your split peas into a mixing bowl.  Add in the broth mixture, the oatmeal, and the egg, stirring everything well to blend it all together.  Pour the mixture into a lightly-greased glass loaf pan, then cover it with tinfoil.  Bake for 40 minutes covered, then remove it from the oven and check for doneness with a toothpick inserted into the middle of the loaf.  (It should come out moist but clean, with no crumbs or goo.)  Once you pass the toothpick test, remove the tinfoil and bake the loaf for another 10 minutes uncovered.  Remove it from the oven for good and let it rest 10 minutes before attempting to slice it.  Serve each slice drizzled with ketchup if you so desire.
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I have been trying to achieve this dish for a while now, in fact since the very beginning of my "almost vegetarian" attempt.  Finally, success!

*I used chicken stock, but it would probably taste just as good with vegetable.

**I used instant maple-flavored, and it really added something extra.  If you don't have a spare packet of maple-flavored instant oatmeal lying around, I recommend adding a little real maple syrup to the spice blend.
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Apparently I am now an adult enough for Grandmom to share with me her stories about her mother-in-law, whom she hated.  In Grandmom's defense, she loved her father-in-law, who was by all reports a lovely man.  However, Mrs. Chiarello was a whole other story.  One day over "The Bachelor", or some other equally awful tv show (what can I say, Grandmom loves reality tv) Grandmom unloaded to me about Assunta "Susan" Chiarello.  Crime the First: she couldn't cook.  According to Grandmom, this is what killed my Uncle Ron's namesake, her father-in-law Rafael Chiarello.  Grandmom also blames Grandpop's being such a picky eater, plague of her (Grandmom's) life (being just as adventurous in the kitchen as I am) on Assunta's lack of cooking ability.  Crime the Second: she did not have an appropriate respect for hygiene.  When Grandmom and Grandpop were first married, they lived with his parents until they could save up to buy a house, and you know this was in the fifties so that was only expected to be a couple of years.  Fast-forward to far longer than Grandmom wanted to live with her inlaws: the birth of the aforementioned Uncle Ron.  Grandmom comes into the living room one day and sees her mother-in-law laughing her head off.  She comes around the couch to see what it's all about, and it's my uncle, chewing on a house slipper.  The next day, Grandmom went out and bought a house.  Two doors down from her own mother.  And that is where she and Grandpop have lived ever since.  Crime the Third: she was a notorious liar.  After Grandmom and Grandpop moved out, word got back to her that her mother-in-law was passing it around that "she (Assunta) had kicked them out".  Later on, I guess Grandmom gained her approval, because when she went to nurse Assunta in the hospital at the end of her life, she discovered that Assunta had been telling all the nurses that she (Grandmom) was her (Assunta's) daughter.  Grandmom was incensed. How dare that awful woman be claiming her?  Have you ever seen an 80-year old woman say "ugh" out loud?  I have.

Stuffed Red Cabbage / Godzilla in the Kitchen

This is apparently the year I discover cabbage. It has also been the year I discovered eggplant. Two vegetables that I previously bore no ill will towards, but had no pressing need to eat. I had half a raw cabbage leftover from making the Blue Cabbage Pasta that I used instead of the green cabbage called for in one of the two seed recipes that inspired this, and I am so glad I did. (Incidentally, for those of us who do not have the free time to make homemade pasta, which is usually also me, Blue Cabbage Pasta would probably be pretty darn tasty with some high-quality dried egg noodles, or perhaps fresh asian egg noodles from the refrigerator case that some groceries stock).   I guess I should be more specific when I say that I am discovering cabbage.  I am discovering red cabbage. It holds its own in a pot of boiling water, makes everything it touches a beautiful, petroleum-dye-free blue that does not stain one's countertops, and has a mild spicy zip that mellows into buttery goodness when cooked. Yes, I have a crush on red cabbage. 

Stuffed Red Cabbage

1/2 head of red cabbage
3 medium-sized potatoes
1 parsnip
8 oz. ricotta cheese (I would make it fresh next time--store bought always seems so grainy to me)
1 red onion
2 eggs
oil for cooking
salt to taste
cayenne pepper to taste (a brief sprinkle was fine for me)
1/2 jar of good quality tomato sauce (yes I used sauce out of a jar, so sue me)
toothpicks (are nice, but you could get by without them)

This picture does not even do it justice.

Wash the half head of cabbage.  Put it in a pot, and fill the pot with water until the cabbage is covered.  (This, by the way, is also how you avoid setting your house on fire when you try to put the turkey in the turkey deep-fryer.  Planning ahead: a valuable skill.  Displacement: thank you, Science.)  Set the cabbage aside, add a little salt to the water, and bring the water to a boil on the stove.  Then put the cabbage in and cook it until it's tender, about 6-8 minutes.  Remove it from the water and put it in a bowl filled with cool water.  (Just tap water is fine, it doesn't have to have ice floating in it or anything.)  Anyway, while your cabbage is boiling, peel and coarsely chop your potatoes and parsnip.  Put them in some boiling water and let them cook until tender.  Drain and set aside.  Returning to the cabbage: gently peel off the cabbage's leaves one by one until you've either peeled them all off or discovered an uncooked inner core to your cabbage.  (This happened to me, but it works out in the end.)  Set the cooked and intact leaves aside (6-8ish of them).  Take the remaining cabbage and chop it finely.  Slice the red onion.  Heat some oil in a large skillet, and saute the onions for a minute or two, then add in the cabbage.  Let it cook until the chopped cabbage is soft.  While that's happening, mash your cooked potatoes and parsnips and add in a little cayenne pepper, salt to taste, and your ricotta cheese and eggs.  Preheat the oven to 425F.  When the cabbage and onions are cooked, fold them into the mixture of mashed potatoes and parsnips.  Get out a 9-inch x 13-inch glass baking dish.  One at a time, gently take a cabbage leaf and lay it on a flat surface.  (I just used the bottom of the casserole.)  Fill the middle with a heaping spoonful of mashed potato mixture.  (About the size of a stress ball.)  Fold the sides of the leaf over the top to make a packet, then either secure it with a toothpick or just lay it seam-side down in the dish.  Repeat until you've used up all your whole leaves.  If you have potato mixture left (I did), nestle the remaining amount in around the cabbage packets.  Pour the tomato sauce over the top of it all.  Cover the dish with foil and bake for about 30 minutes. 
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If it wouldn't give away too much secret information about my kitchen (like that it is small, and has appliances that are from the eighties) I would post a picture of it post-cooking all this business.  It looked like Godzilla invaded Tokyo ergo my kitchen with a willful need to leave vegetable peels all over the place, was surprised by a funny joke with a mouthful of cabbage juice, and also ate off every dish in my house.  Grandmom is way neater than that when she cooks.  Her kitchen looks like one of those photos from a ladies' magazine where they show the glossy-smiled famous person looking matronly as she pulls a perfectly-baked something out of the oven, with nary a sticky mixing bowl or bloody styrofoam meat package in the background.  I don't know how she does it, even after all these years of watching her cook.  I even have a dishwasher, and my kitchen is clean by the end of it all, but Grandmom, although she has one, does not actually use her dishwasher and her kitchen is still spotless even when she is frying those delicious porkchop cutlets.  I chalk it up to Grandmom being Martha Stewart's original inspiration.  It's true.  Grandmom may not handmake her own ricotta cheese, and has to be coaxed away from the can of cream-of soup, but she is the undisputed Queen of the Kitchen.  So much so that Great-grandmom even snookered her into "helping" her make homemade grape jelly one year.  Did I mention Grandmom has five siblings?  Who else helped?  Nobody.  Afterwards, Grandmom told Great-grandmom (who she lived two houses down from, by the way) to "find somebody else next year."  Great-grandmom said, "Who?"  Grandmom whipped back with "Julie!"  Great-grandmom protested that "she was the baby" (mind you, they were all married and had children of their own by this point), but in the end Grandmom never helped make grape jelly again!

Blue Cabbage Pasta / The Temptations of Cheese Powder

half a medium-sized head of red cabbage, washed and cut into thin strips
half an onion, cut into rounds
oil for cooking
salt to taste
1-1/2 C. flour
2 eggs
a rolling pin (seriously, you need one to make this)
1/2 C. fresh grated parmesan cheese

Ahead of time, combine the flour with a little salt, if you like (I used about 1/2 tsp).  Lightly beat the eggs in a separate bowl, then combine them with the flour.  Add in a little water for consistency-- around 1/4 C.  The dough will look pretty loose.  Wash your hands (do I need to say this?) and then stick them down in the bowl and squirsh the dough until it starts to come together, about three-four squirshes.  Yes, that's a word.  It's onomonopoeic, and it means what you think it means: "squishing with extra squish."  Once the dough is a single lump, turn it out onto a (clean) counter and knead it until it's smooth and elastic, about 10 minutes.  Set it aside to let it rest while you do other things.  (Your dough should be able to rest about 30 minutes.)  Get your pasta pot ready but don't turn the heat on: add in about 4 cups of water, 1/2 tsp. salt, and a splash of oil.  Heat some more oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat.  When it's hot enough, add in the onions and cook them until they're soft.  Then add in the cabbage and cook it until it's soft, stirring it as necessary.  (This takes a bit longer-- about 15 minutes.)  Salt to taste.  When it's ready, roll out your dough into 1/8th inch (3 mm) thickness.  Cut it into strips about 1/2 inch (1 cm) wide , then cut the strips about 3 inches (7 cm) long.  Set them aside on a plate.  For style points, twist each strip into a tight spiral.  Bring the cooking water to a boil.  Dump the fresh pasta into the water.  Remove it when it floats to the top.  Put the cooked cabbage into a large serving bowl.  Pour about 1/2 C. of the pasta water over top.  Put your hot pasta into the bowl.  Toss everything together to coat, including your parmesan cheese. 

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This is a labor-intensive but delectable dish that combines a healthy vegetable with the indulgence of homemade pasta.  I called it "Blue Cabbage Pasta" because red cabbage, when you cook it, ends up looking a beautiful purple-blue.  It makes a large serving bowlful (about 8-10 servings as a main dish), so cut the recipe in half if you're not so into leftovers.  By the way, I'm writing this while eating caramel and artificial cheese-flavored popcorn, and I just had to stop myself from wiping my hands on the carpet.  So please do not ever think I'm Martha Stewart.  I'm pretty sure Martha Stewart is never even tempted to wipe her hands on the carpet.  In my defense, that cheese powder is so sticky that you almost instictively want to get it off your hands, and no, I didn't actually wipe my hands on the carpet.  I just almost did.

Sweet Pumpkin Kugel

2/3 C. canned pumpkin (not pumpkin pie filling, just plain pumpkin!!)
1/4 C. granulated sugar
2 eggs
8 oz. egg noodles
8 oz. sour cream
1/4 C. (1/2 of a standard stick) of butter

Boil and drain the egg noodles according to package directions.  (I left mine a little al dente figuring their time in the oven would further cook them and prevent any soggy noodles.)  Melt the butter in a microwave safe bowl.  Beat in butter, the sour cream (to cool it down), then the pumpkin, and finally the eggs.  Combine the pumpkin-sour cream mixture with the cooked noodles.  Pour all into a buttered 6x6 deep casserole.  (Why do I have one of these?  My Great-grandmother on my mom's side was getting ready to move to assisted living a couple of years ago, and, having lived by herself all those years, had plenty of small cooking dishes that she didn't need anymore.  So she passed some of them on to me.)  Bake it, covered, at 350 for about an hour.  Serves approximately 4-6.
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And there you have it!  It's slightly sweet, has a vegetable in it, and is rich and satisfying.  I would upload a picture but honestly I tore into it straight out of the oven.

Broccoli Rabe Patties

About 1 lb broccoli rabe (also known as "rapini")
1-2 eggs
1/2 to 1 C. fresh bread crumbs
oil for frying

Steam the broccoli rabe until done, 2-5 minutes.  Strain, let cool slightly, then chop into small pieces.  In a bowl, mix together the broccoli rabe, eggs, and fresh breadcrumbs*.  Make into patties and fry like a hamburger in a little oil.  Serve as is or on a bun!
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*I say fresh breadcrumbs because they're basically the only binder in this recipe.  Otherwise you would just have an omelet, also very Italian, but which does not fit the recipe's description of something you can "fry like a hamburger".  For the record, the original recipe omitted the instruction to make them into patties, but did stipulate that you fry it like a hamburger.  Hamburgers come in patties right?  Judi, please correct me if I'm misreading the original recipe.

Pan-Fried Zucchini Flower Omelet

Several dozen zucchini flowers (enough to make 1-2 C.)
1 green pepper, chopped
1 onion, chopped italian style*
1 zucchini, sliced thinly
1 potato, sliced thinly -or- green tomatoes, chopped and sugared
4 eggs
salt to taste
olive oil for cooking

Wash the zucchini flowers and saute in a little oil just for a little bit.  (They will cook fast.)  In a separate skillet, saute the rest of the vegetables until tender, starting from hardest to softest.  (IE if you opt for potato, put it in the pan first, then the zucchini, then the green peppers, then the onion.  Otherwise, go zucchini, peppers, onion, tomato.  That way they'll all get done about the same time.)  When the other vegetables are all cooked, add in the zucchini flowers and a little more oil.  Beat the eggs, and add in the salt.  Pour the egg mixture over the vegetables in the skillet, then reduce the heat to medium low and let the egg cook until set, swirling it around in the pan a little once it's set enough to come loose in a single piece.  Serve as is or on kaiser rolls. 
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I confess to getting a little lazy.  I looked at my post list and realized that it was still February the last time I posted anything.  Then I found this recipe among the ones Judi gave me to put up here.  How could I not post this!

Crispy Honey-Mustard Breaded Eggplant

1 large eggplant
breading
ample seasoned breadcrumbs
a 2:1 mixture of mustard to honey -or- a prepared honey-mustard from the store
about 1 C. buttermilk

1/4 C. butter or oil

Wash and peal your eggplant, cutting off the green stem part at the top.  Slice it in half longways, then into wide strips about 1/2" thick (1 cm) by 4-6 inches long (10-15 cm), basically the size and shape of a deck of cards*.  But this is the vegetable world we're talking about here, so don't get your perfectionism on.  Just make sure they're not too thick.  Preheat a large a non-stick skillet on medium-high heat.  DO NOT PUT ANY OIL IN IT!!!  When a drop of water sizzles in the pan, lay your eggplant pieces in there on a single layer, doing batches if you have to.  Cook them on each side until they get dark golden brown on each side, then remove them to a plate.  When all your eggplant slices are brown, prepare three dishes or bowls: one with honey-mustard, one with breadcrumbs, and one with buttermilk.  In the meantime, slice your butter into pats into a large glass baking dish or just put the oil in the bottom of the dish.  Either way, put the dish in an oven preheated to 400F.  (Don't stress that I didn't tell you to preheat the oven until this point-- you have plenty to do while the oven gets hot enough after this point.)  Dredge your eggplant slices well until coated on each side in each of the three bowls in this order: honey-mustard, breadcrumbs, buttermilk, breadcrumbs.  When you're done, put the breaded pieces in the glass baking dish and return it to the oven.  Bake for 30 minutes, turning them about 15 minutes into the process, or until they are done on both sides.  They may or may not technically be what is described as "crispy".  This is okay.  They will still be "crunchy".  Voila!  Serve while hot.  Makes about 6 servings.
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*I hesitated to use words like "filet" or "steak" or "tender" even though this recipe is inspired by a couple of different baked-chicken recipes I like, because I wasn't sure those words were descriptive enough for the purpose-- the key to getting a good texture with eggplant, which has a lot of water in it, is to slice it thin enough to cook the water out without burning it.

So, eggplant that is not a "steak" or a "tender" but is styled after "chicken".  At this point, I basically have made a challenge to myself to see how long I can go without buying meat in the grocery store.  ('Cause is espensive.)  But yet, I still crave meatiness more than I (or my waistline) can afford to get it eating out.  So, this is my first attempt at vegetable chicken-like food.  The prior vegetarian main dish recipes posted here are pretty satisfactory in the "red meat replacement" category, but honestly, I have been eating more of, and there are more vegetable-based recipes for, pretend red meat than I ever ate of the real thing.  So, I've been wanting something I could use in my kitchen with all the great chicken recipes I have.  This recipe is pretty tasty both in flavor and in texture, and I hope to use eggplant successfully in other recipes in the future.

Vegetarian Hot-Hot Dish

5 medium potatoes, partially peeled and cut into large chunks*
3 medium carrots, fully peeled and sliced into coins
1/2 C. white beans
1/2 C. cooked barley
1/4 C. bread crumbs
oil for cooking
salt and pepper to taste
1 TB. molasses
1 TB. lemon juice
1 TB. Worchestershire sauce
1/4 C. prepared Korean BBQ sauce
1/3 C. ketchup
1/4 C. milk (optional)
1/4 C. butter (optional)

Make the vegetarian ground beef crumble out of 1/2 C. white beans (chopped in the food processor or lightly mashed), 1/2 C. cooked barley, 1/4 C. bread crumbs, and 1 TB. of the Korean BBQ sauce.  Heat a generous amount of cooking oil in a skillet over medium heat.  Add in the crumble mixture and let it sit and sizzle for about 5 minutes undisturbed.  Break it up and turn it with a spatula so that you have crumbley pieces (uncooked it's sort of a paste), about 5-10 more minutes.  In the meantime, put your potatoes and carrots in two pots over high heat and bring to a boil, then reduce to medium-high and boil until done.  Remove the crumbles from the heat when they're done.  Drain the potatoes and carrots; set the carrots aside.  Using the pot you cooked the potatoes in, melt the butter and scald the milk.  Add the potatoes back into the pot and mash them well, adding salt and pepper to taste-- I used about 1 tsp. of each.  In a small bowl, mix together the lemon juice, molasses, Korean BBQ sauce, ketchup, and Worchestershire sauce.  Preheat the oven on the "broil" setting.  In a glass baking dish, put the cooked crumbles in an even layer on the bottom.  Spoon the sauce over top.  Layer on the cooked carrots, then top with your mashed potatoes, smoothing them to make sure they are an even thickness over the whole dish.  Put the baking dish in the oven and broil until the mashed potatoes begin to brown, about 5-10 minutes.  This is pretty delicious served over top of fresh salad greens, as shown, but would also be just as good served alongside a couple of cooked vegetables.
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This dish is hot, hot, hot!  Okay, it's not that hot really.

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*Being a woman, I'm well-versed in the benefits of a diet high in B-vitamins such as the ones found in the skins of potatoes.  To make a compromise between flavor and nutritional quality, I peel my patotoes in stripes (instead of peeling all of the skin off) and use them that way.

The name of this recipe is tongue-in-cheek in more than one way.  Way number 1: "hot dish" is a midwestern staple that has potatoes and ground beef, much like this dish, which has a vegetarian "ground beef" crumble and mashed potatoes on top.  Way number 2: the prepared Korean BBQ sauce makes it kinda spicy (ha ha ha "hot dish", "hot-hot dish").  Way number 3: during a time when I had a burning need to own a pet rabbit, the perfect pet (I never did get one), I discovered that there is a breed of rabbits called the Hothot.  Also there are dwarf Hothots.  Since this is vegetarian, it's rabbit food!  Yes, congratulate me.  Creative Writing degree successfully used once again.

Good Banana Bread versus the Edible Doorstop

Good Banana Bread

1 egg
1 overripe banana, thoroughly mashed
1/3 C. brown sugar mixed with a little water to make a syrup
1/3 C. oil
1 tsp. vanilla
3/4 tsp. baking soda
2/3 C. flour
1/3 C. boiling BOILING YES I SAID BOILING water

Butter a small loaf pan and preheat the oven to 325F.  In one bowl, combine the eggs, mashed banana, brown sugar/water combo, vanilla, and oil.  In another bowl, whisk together the flour and baking soda.  Mix the two together, scraping the bottom to ensure that all the wet and all the dry make friends.  Pour your BOILING water over the top in one fell swoop, then quickly stir it into the batter.  Pour it all into the loaf pan, and put in the oven for 45 minutes.  Do not peek!  Once the 45 minutes has elapsed, turn off the oven without opening it and let the banana bread sit in there another 5 or 10 minutes, then remove it and let it cool still in the pan another 10 minutes before trying to get it out.  At this point you can slice it. 

You could probably include 1/3 C. to 1/2 C. chopped nuts of your choice.  I would have, except I used mine all up on the edible doorstop.  I may still try and polish that turd by ressurecting it (not to mix my metaphors or anything) as an incorporation in an original dessert creation.  I mean, heck, it's already original if one of the staple ingredients is "edible doorstop".



Good Banana Bread

versus

Edible Doorstop

I have been deeply discontented with the banana bread I made a couple of days ago and which recipe I refused to post here on the blog.  Discontent can be a constructive thing if, you know, you construct things out of it.  Like freedom movements and better banana bread recipes.  Otherwise you basically wallow in your own disgust.  I have been discontented with my life the last few weeks, even though I know better.  How can one person be happy and discontented at the same time?  Not only am I well aware that there is the greater portion of the world that would be delighted to have my life, I know that even me from ten years ago would be astounded that I would not be content with the life I have today. 

So, I put my favorite tunes on Pandora and set out the build a better banana bread.  This banana bread recipe was inspired by my favorite gingerbread recipe, which came from a recipe book called “Ashevittles” published by the Catholic diocese of Asheville, North Carolina, and by an inspired conversation with one of my very best friends.  In addition, the idea for a brown sugar/water combo (to replace the molasses that normally goes in the gingerbread) came from her dad’s banana pudding recipe. Which just goes to show that the people who touch your life are a source of much good and happiness.

Vegetarian Meatballs in their Media Debut

Vegetarian Meatballs

So here's a picture of the vegetarian meatballs.  They can also be fried instead of baked (with or without sauce), and I haven't tried it, but they hold up well enough that I bet you could actually simmer them in a sauce on top of the stove.  The recipe makes about 3-4 servings of about 3-4 meatballs.  No, I'm still not going to call them "beanballs" or "vegetarian balls" or anything besides a meatball.  It's meaty, it takes the role of protein in a meal, it's a meat.  Unless you can point out to me the greater Meatabeast of Central Africa, I refuse to linguistically acknowledge that all meat must come from animal muscle fiber.  Just call me "Dona Quixote".

A word on all the vegetarian recipes all of a sudden: of course health professionals have been telling us all for years now to eat less red meat and more fiber, but mainly  my sudden interest stems from the fact that I can buy enough protein for a "serves 4-6 meal" for between 25 and 50 cents.  (50 cents if I feel lazy and use precooked canned beans.)  Whereas the same amount of meat would cost $3-$6.  Plus I get to hold over everybody's heads how healthy I am and how I go look at the ducks in the park and feel self-righteous about not wanting to eat them.

Zucchini Bread

3 eggs
2-1/4 C. sugar
2 C. shredded zucchini*
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. baking soda
1 C. chopped nuts
1-1/2 tsp. vanilla
1 C. oil
3 C. flour
4 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. salt

Preheat the oven to 350F.  Mix together the eggs, oil, and zucchini.  In a separate bowl, whisk together** all of the dry ingredients except the nuts.  Combine the two mixtures, then fold in the nuts***.  Grease and flour two loaf pans.  Pour the batter equally into the two pans and bake for one hour or until they pass the toothpick test****.  Let cool before slicing.  Good with butter on top!
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"Good with butter on top!"  Once I got to four stars, I just gave up.  I think everything is good with butter on top, especially all things bread. 

****"The toothpick test" is what I call that part of the recipe that goes "until a toothpick inserted [in the middle] comes out clean."  Excuse me, but what middle, what is the definition of "clean", and why is this important?  All questions I used to ask myself when I was a less-experienced baker.  So I'm going to answer them for you. 

1) "In the middle": in all honesty, the best test is to poke the baked item in two or three places, one of which should be the middle, or the thickest part, whichever is thicker.

2) "the definition of clean": depends on your baked good.  For example, since this a fairly moist sweet bread, I would consider "toothpick emerges with a few moist crumbs sticking to it" to indicate doneness.  For a full-on cake (like a yellow cake or pound cake) I would hold out until the toothpick came out with nothing on it.  If at any time gooey stuff, even gooey crumbs, are apparent on your toothpick, put that bad boy back in the oven and try again in a few minutes.  While we're on the subject, unless you want to heat the whole house with your oven, get you some hot pads, take the baking pan fully out of the oven and close the oven door while you're checking it.  This prevents additional baking time while the oven regains all the heat lost while you crouched in front of the oven door doing the toothpick test.  (It goes without saying...or does it?...that you then set your baking dish on some other heat resistant surface like the stovetop after closing the oven but before trying to stick a toothpick in it.)  Incidentally, spellcheck wanted me to replace "stovetop" with "stevedore."  I don't think a stevedore would appreciate a hot baking dish being set on top of him, and since he's a stevedore he, like a mule (according to my uncle) is big enough to do something about it.

3) This is important because otherwise you will have pancake batter on your plate instead of a luscious fully-cooked baked good when you go to cut it.

***"Fold in the nuts": saving the nuts for last ensures that they are fully incorporated, and also prevents them sinking to the bottom of your bread while it bakes.

**Some people bother to sift things with an actual sifter.  Some recipes call for "thus and such amount sifted ingredient" which is a crafty way of saying "first sift this and get [ingredient] all over your countertop, then try to measure fairy dust, then repeat when you only have half as much as you need."  I avoid those recipes.  This recipe calls for the amount you need to dump out of the flour jar into the bowl.  Then use a wire whisk (like you use for scrambled eggs) and whisk all the dry stuff with the whisk.  It fluffs up your dry ingredients so your bread will be light and causes that much less heartache in he kitchen.  It's neater, too.

*Now the zucchini, on the other hand...shred you some zucchini.  If you happen to have a garden, rejoice in the amount of whole zucchinis you need to make up 2 cups of shredded zucchini. 

Javelinas / True Love, Fifties-Style

2-2/3 C. all-purpose flour
1/3 C. whole wheat flour
1 TB. baking powder
1/2 C. milk
1/4 C. shortening
1/2 C. molasses
2/3 C. brown sugar
1 tsp. anise seeds
1 C. golden raisins
1 egg, separated
1 tsp. vanilla
granulated sugar, for dusting

Preheat the oven to 350F.  Combine the flours and baking powder.  In a separate bowl, blend together the shortening and brown sugar.  Add in the molasses and vanilla.  Beat in the egg yolk.  Combine the flour and egg mixtures.  Blend in the raisins and anise seed.  Add milk to moisten until the consistency is somewhat akin to scone dough.  Turn out onto a floured work surface and knead briefly, just until the dough hangs together well.  Pat into a round, then pat the round out to 1/2-inch (1 cm-ish) thickness.  Cut into rounds with a biscuit cutter --or-- use a pig-shaped cookie cutter.  Place them on a greased baking sheet about a half-inch apart and brush the tops with the reserved egg white.  Sprinkle them with generously with granulated sugar.  Bake for 18-20 minutes or until done.  (They will rise somewhat and the sugar on top will brown.)
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The difference between Grandmom and me (so I thought) was that I had a more adventurous and reckless nature.  Grandmom doesn't go out of the house with the dryer still running.  I still occasionally put things in the oven that are going to take a long time before I leave the house on purpose.  I don't do so very often, because eventually I am overcome by the possibility of returning to my house to find it a smoking ruin.  It's never happened, but you try driving home hoping your house hasn't recently been put out by the fire department and see how inclined you are to do it again.  There you go.  Some people, like Grandmom, could not even bear the possibility.  I, on the other hand, eventually forget the possibility and live to tempt disaster once again.  And so I thought that was the way things stood amongst us, until Grandmom told me about her other fiance. Yes, all this time I thought Grandpop was her first love.  In my imagination it could have been taken right from a script for "The Donna Reed Show".  But oh, no, I was wrong.  She was about 20 years old, and she had been seeing this other boy from her high school since she was fourteen, so about six years.  Eventually, they got engaged.  And then, she and my Grandpop (who also went to the same school) both went to a party hosted by mutual friends.  At some point during the party, Grandpop called out "WHO WANTS TO SIT ON MY LAP?!"  And Grandmom decided that she wanted to.  She told me that at that moment she knew that she loved that other guy "like a brother", and she broke it off to go out with Grandpop!  So I guess I come by it naturally.

Bean & Nut Cutlets

1/2 C. canned or fully cooked (until soft) red beans
1/2 C. nut of your choice*
1 egg
1/3 C. Italian-style breadcrumbs + extra for breading (another 1/3 C. or so)
1 small onion, minced
1/4 tsp. salt
pepper to taste
Oil for cooking

Chop the nuts finely.  Mash the beans or process them in the food processor until they are finely chopped also.  Combine all ingredients.  Start heating the oil in a large skillet over medium heat.  Sprinkle the remaining breadcrumbs on a plate.  With wet hands, grab a golfball-sized chunk of cutlet blend (what exactly do you call a bean & nut cutlet before it's a cutlet?) and maneuver it into the palm of your hand.  Pat it to about 3/4-inch (2 cm) thick.  Drop it onto the plate with the breadcrumbs.  Gently turn it over to bread the other side.  (They can be kind of loose, so basically use the stickiness of your cutlety fingers to pick it up.)  Repeat until no more cutlet blend is is left.  Using a spatula, slide the cutlets one at a time into the skillet once the oil is hot enough.  Cook on each side, turning once, until both sides are a toasty brown and they are pretty firm.  They should feel like a loose salmon croquette when you poke them (not too hard!) with the spatula.  Once you remove them from the pan you can drain them or not.  I didn't, and they didn't seem greasy to me.  Yum!  Serve with your favorite meaty sauces, like BBQ or honey mustard.
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*I had some leftover hazelnuts, so I used half and half hazelnuts and walnuts.  I think any tree nut would probably taste fine, though, and even peanuts, especially if you were going for a Thai theme.

Once, way back in the day, I toyed with "being a vegetarian".  You know, as a "lifestyle choice", kind of like how some people are hipsters and some people take personal meaning from owning show cats.  I just want to say now that, no matter what I eat, in what quantities, and with whatever frequency, I will never "be a vegetarian".  I think very few choices in life really are portentious enough to warrant a state a being, and that those choices should be given respect.  I think some people would have us all believe that "being a vegetarian" and "not being a serial killer" are essentially equal life choices.  (Let's just pretend that we proceed to have a big "meat is murder" argument but not actually do it.  All I'm saying is, until you start prosecuting the lions in Africa, or admit that human beings should adhere to higher moral standards in the rest of their lives as well as their dietary choices "because we're more evolved", leave me alone.)

Vegetarian Meatballs, Italian-Style / When A Romantic Comedy Causes Noise Ordinance Violation

1 16oz. can cooked cannelini beans
1/3 C. Italian-style breadcrumbs
1 C. cooked barley (or rice would probably do as well)*
1/4 C. oatmeal**
1 egg
1/2 of a tomato, chopped
2-3 TB. of chopped onion
2-3 TB. Parmesan cheese + some for topping (if you prefer)
pepper and garlic powder to taste

cooking oil
spaghetti sauce

Process the cannelini beans in a food processor until they are coarsely chopped.  Combine them in a bowl with the rest of the ingredients (except for the cooking oil and spaghetti sauce).  Add more oatmeal or breadcrumbs if necessary until the mixture is about like a meatloaf would be in consistency.  (Ergo, cohesive but somewhat loose.)  Preheat the oven to 400F.  Put the cooking oil in a thin layer on the bottom of a glass baking dish.  One at a time, and with wet hands, form meatballs out of the bean mixture.*** Place them in the baking dish so that they don't touch each other.  Put the dish in the oven and bake them for 30-45 minutes, or until hot and fairly firm.  Remove them from the oven and pour a little spaghetti sauce over each meatball.  (I refuse to call it a beanball.)  Return them to the oven and bake about 5 more minutes.  Put your meatballs on a serving platter or dish.  Top them with spaghetti sauce and Parmesan cheese like you would a regular meatball.  Heck, if you feel extra crafty cook some pasta and serve them all in with that.
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*Yes, I used leftover barley.  Grandmom raised me well.  As further proof, I also used the beans, tomato, and onion from an unsatisfactory batch of Bean & Pasta Soup I made earlier this week without the benefit of chicken stock.  (Not intentionally-- I forgot I had bought seafood stock for the Loco Moco and didn't want to try that in my Bean & Pasta Soup, so used plain water as the base.  Yes, ugh.)  The pasta part of the soup is now sitting in my freezer, from whence came the barley.  Love me, love my leftovers. 

**You could dispense with the barley and rice and only use an equivalent amount of oatmeal if you wanted, although the barley gave the meatballs a nice bite.  I used the barley because a) I thought I could, b) FINISH FINISH NO THROW AWAY! and c) when I was making my grocery list I didn't include oatmeal because I knew I had some instant in the cabinet...instant maple-brown sugar flavored!  So basically what happened was this: I dumped the whole packet in, casually read the side of the paper as I was about to throw it away, and then hurriedly dumped out as much of the instant oatmeal as I could.  I then defrosted the barley.  Before I overcompensated with pepper they were some pretty maple syrup-flavored meatballs.

***This basically looks like you're playing a very slow and solemn game of "hot potato" with the vegetarian meatball.  And yes, the wet hands do really make it easier.  It has the same result as when you flour your hands before handling pastry or oil your hands before handling candy.  What this says about my vegetarian meatballs, I don't know.

Grandmom and I once had a shouting match over the tv.  Grandmom likes Romantic Comedies.  I do not, but hey, my choices were: sit in another room from the person I came to visit or watch a Romantic Comedy with her.  It happened to be "The Wedding Planner", starring J. Lo as The Lovelorn Underappreciated Career Woman Looking for Love and Matthew Mcconaughey as The Antihero Who Supposedly Wins the Audience with His Bad Boy Charm.  Long story short, by the end of the movie I was shouting at the tv like it was the superbowl for J.Lo's character to go with the nice Italian boy who came all the way from Italy to meet her, and my mild, gentle Grandmom was shouting right back, "BUT SHE DOESN'T LOVE HIM!!!!"   Only in an Italian household would two women watching a Romantic Comedy on a couch in front of the tv become loud. We may or may not have had ice cream afterwards.  Ice cream heals all wounds.